


What Friends Are For

by satanic_panic



Category: Donnie Darko (2001)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Blood and Injury, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Stabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satanic_panic/pseuds/satanic_panic
Summary: Whenever he can, Donnie helps you out with the abusive situation at home, but a few nights change everything.





	What Friends Are For

Donnie always kept his window open for you, as he knew that, sometimes, your mother would burst into your room and tear it all apart and leave bruises and cuts on your body, and in retaliation, you would run to the Darko home, welcomed by open arms; to his two sisters, his mother, and his father, what went on at your room was purely verbal - but Donnie had seen the marks. He had traced every scar, shakily put plasters on each fresh cut, soothed the bruises, wiped away the tears, cleaned up the blood; he wanted to make it all better, but what could an eighteen year old with no money, who was being held back a year at school, do? 

Legally, nothing. All he could do was keep his window open, and hope that there wouldn't be a day when you bled out on his bedroom floor. He had even allowed you to keep a few changes of clothes in his wardrobe, as from time to time, things grew so bad that you ended up staying a few nights - mostly at your father's request; Donnie admired your father for that, for his protection and shielding you at every opportunity. But, he hated your mother, all the things she did and said to you, it made him want to make her feel the same. 

\--- 

It was early in the morning, just gone three o'clock, when you crawled in through Donnie's window, panting heavily and sobbing as you clutched your wrist; he was awake in seconds, jumping out of his bed and turning his lamp on, helping you over to his bed and gently sitting you down on the edge. 

"What did she do?" Donnie asked quietly, scanning your face before his gaze landed on your wrist; exposed, he could see the burnt flesh, he could vaguely smell lighter fluid coming from it, and clenched his jaw tightly. "Wait here." 

"Donnie-" you fell backward, wincing and silently sobbing in agony; when he came back, he had a roll of bandages in one hand, a pot of antiseptic cream in the other. Sitting back up, you slowly removed your hand from the wound, letting him get a good look at it before you dared to reach out, lacing your fingers. "Is… is it gonna hurt?" 

He fell silent, unsure as he swallowed thickly, giving your hand a slight squeeze; he could feel Frank's gaze on his back, but right now, he only had one focus. "Fuck if I know." 

You nodded, willing to accept the pain; seething and wincing when he applied the cream, you clenched his hand so tightly you worried you would break his bones as you did your best not to scream. He did his best to reassure you, making you focus on his eyes as he gently wrapped the bandage around your wrist, tying it up. Tears poured from the clouds in your eyes like a toxic rain as you slipped out of his grasp and hugged him tightly. 

"I just wanna fucking die… all the things she does… what she says… I can't take it no more, Donnie… I can't fucking take it." 

Rubbing your back, Donnie felt a pang in his chest as he held you close, doing his best to be reassuring. "I know, I know, but… in a year or two, I'll be going off to college, and I'm fucking taking you with me. For now, we'll just… keep you away from that house." 

You nodded, shuddering and sniffling. "You're the best… really, have I ever told you that?" 

He smiled a little as he pulled away, letting go of you in order to wipe the tears from your face with his thumbs, gentle, soft, complete opposite to how he was with everyone else. "I just give a shit about you, is all… tomorrow, at school, we'll call your dad-" 

"He knows I'm here," you whispered, shaking your head. "He… he doesn't mind where I am, as long as I'm safe." 

"Good," Donnie nodded. "You can take my bed, I'll sleep on the floor." 

You shook your head, clutching his hand again. "I… I don't wanna sleep alone, if that's alright?" 

Running a hand through his hair to tidy up the messy obsidian locks, Donnie shrugged. "Anything you want, (y/n)... you hungry? Thirsty?" 

"Tired. Need a smoke," you admitted with a soft chuckle, making Donnie crack a crooked and crushed smile. 

He reached over to his bedside table, opening the drawer before pulling out a packet of fresh cigarettes and handing them to you; he searched the drawer for his lighter, finding it beside the shallow ashtray he had stolen. He passed you the lighter and placed the ashtray on the floor, inviting you to sit with him as he took back the packet of cigarettes and lit one up. "You know, if there's anything, fucking anything at all, I can do… you can tell me." 

"Just knowing you're here is enough," you said quietly, voice broken and fading from crying. "Let alone everything else you've done for me." 

Donnie shrugged, taking a drag from his cigarette. "It's what friends are for." 

\--- 

You woke up tangled with Donnie , unsure of where your body began and his ended, but as you stirred, you couldn't deny that it felt good to be held by him; the pain in your wrist had subsided a fair bit, a dull sting as you began to pull away, accidentally waking him up in the process. 

"Stay," Donnie's voice was low and groggy, still half asleep as he pulled you back to him. "Please?" 

You shook your head, looking out of the corner of the curtains, able to see the light blue sky of day. "Donnie, we gotta get up. We have school." 

"Oh, fuck school," he murmured, keeping you close, making you laugh. "Come on, one day won't hurt." 

Chuckling, you broke away from his lovely embrace, as much as it hurt your heart to do so, and walked over to his wardrobe; you found your spare clothes easily, and took off what you had slept in, but just as you were about to pull on your fresh pair of jeans, you noticed Donnie had sat up, and was looking at you. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." 

Without missing a beat, Donnie reached beneath his bed, grabbing his camera, he quickly snapped a picture, and grinned. "You told me to take a picture." 

Rolling your eyes, you pulled on your jeans. "Get dressed. We gotta be in class in an hour." 

He put his camera back, the developing picture going beneath his pillow as he stood up and walked over to the wardrobe; he pulled out two of his grey hoodies, giving you one and smiling when you tugged it on after putting your clean shirt on. "Why don't we just skip class? If only this morning." 

It was tempting to say yes, to go off with him for the morning and not bother with school, but you knew that if your mother ever found out, well… you didn't want to think about that. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today." 

"Fine," Donnie sighed, taking a quick look at you as he changed. "You hungry?" 

"I'm good," you hummed, sitting at the edge of his bed and looking at your bandage. You could still smell burnt flesh. Upon seeing your frown, Donnie came and sat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "It… it was my fault, I should've… I shouldn't have provoked her… I should've stayed quiet and out of the way." 

Donnie shook his head, letting out a sigh as he dared to rub your back. "It wasn't your fault, she… she's the fucking antichrist. It wasn't your fault, (y/n)." 

You swallowed thickly, nodding, but Donnie knew you weren't agreeing with him, so he let out a soft growl, and got up off of the bed, knowing you were watching. "Donnie, I… thank you, for being there, all these years, all this time, I… thank you." 

He shot you a soft glance, accompanied with a charming smile. "Like I said last night, it's what friends are for, right?" 

It hurt him to say that, to only take up the role of caring friend, because even though he cared deeply and truly about you, and he genuinely wanted to help, he also wanted to star in the role of the caring boyfriend, kiss your lips when you cried to make you smile, hold your hand tightly to show his support, hold you in his arms until the pain went away; he had good intentions, that was true, and he didn't want you to think he was angling to get into your jeans, he didn't want you to think that his care was nothing more than a facade. So, he kept quiet about his feelings so very quiet that you had no idea they even existed. 

The two of you walked to school, getting there just in time to have a few minutes before class, enough precious seconds to have a cigarette and give final assurances and support. 

"What if people see it?" You asked quietly, referring to the bandage on your arm with a sad, heavy, sigh. 

"Tell 'em to fuck off," Donnie growled, the urge to protect you deep within his veins as he took a step forward. "Or, tell me who said it, and I'll… I'll deal with them." 

You nodded, lurching forward to hug him tightly, burying your head against his chest, doing your best not to cry. "Thank you…" 

Donnie chuckled, tightly holding you, doing his best not to think about how perfectly you fit in his arms. "You need to stop fucking thanking me, baby… I, I mean, we're friends, it's what we do." 

You squeezed him a little, melting against his embrace but not so much that it could be read as anything but platonic; not that there weren't already thousands of rumours about you and Donnie circulating, as there were. Even a few of the teachers speculated about it. But rumours were rumours, there was no truth to them… even if you did love Donnie with everything you had, without knowing he reciprocated. "I know, but… you mean a lot to me, Donnie, and I… I just want you to know that I'm always in debt to you, and your family, for helping me." 

He shook his head, pulling away a little so that he could tilt your head up by the chin with his forefinger and thumb, making you look into his gorgeous, mesmerising, cobalt eyes. "You mean a lot to me, too, (y/n)... I…" he would do anything for you, he would stop time and keep Frank well away from you, but he couldn't say that. "Forget the debt. I'll always fucking help you… you're my…" he yearned to say that you were his girl. "You're my best friend." 

You smiled a little, that broken, crooked, bruised and battered smile that he loved so much, even when there was sadness and melancholy seeping through the seams; reaching up, you gently kissed his cheek, and did your best not to linger. "You're my best friend, too." 

\--- 

"Hey, Darko!" Heckled Brian, one of the sports stars of the school as he passed by Donnie in the hallways, a sickly sneer on his face. "Heard your girlfriend hurt her wrist!" 

Donnie rolled his eyes, doing his best to keep out of trouble as he flicked his hood up and attempted to walk away; he promised to meet you in the bathroom of the science corridor to take a look at your wound, and he wasn't about to break that promise. "Fuck off, Brian." 

Brian scoffed. "You think you can talk to me like that you fucking freak?! You fucking psycho!" 

"Just fuck off, man," Donnie growled, shaking his head. "Just fuck off." 

Before he could taunt and heckle any further, Brian was whisked away by his sports friends, leaving Donnie in peace as he trudged down the hallway toward the bathroom. Pushing the door open, he sighed, putting his hood down and leaving his bag by the door, positioning it so that no one could enter; you were sat on the sink, scratching at your bandage. 

"It's itchy," you whined like a flea-ridden dog. 

Donnie stood between your legs, gently holding your wounded arm. "I know… but, it's healing." 

Softly, he unwrapped the bandage, wincing a little at the prominent marking from where you had been burned, but a pang of hope went through his chest when he realised that it would scab over, if left alone. 

You whined again, looking oh so woeful as your fingers twitched, begging you to scratch and pick at the wound. "I wanna itch it, need to scratch, I-" 

"Don't," he told you lowly, as if an order that you couldn't help but to obey. "Leave it." 

You nodded, letting out a whimper when he dropped your arm in order to go into his bag; he grabbed the pot of antiseptic cream, and walked back over with it, placing it beside your thigh before gently rubbing the cream onto your wound, soothing the itch, dulling the need to scratch. 

"Thank you," you whispered when he had finished making sure your wrist wouldn't get infected. 

Donnie shook his head, pressed his forehead against yours for a moment. "Don't thank me… it's what friends are for." 

"It must be nice for you," you said softly, putting your hand at the nape of his neck, letting your wounded wrist rest on your lap. 

"What do you mean?" He asked, one hand on your upper arm, the other on your thigh. 

"Taking care of wounded birds," you chuckled. "Bandaging up broken wings." 

Donnie rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little. "I hate it. I fucking hate it. Seeing you hurt, having to do this shit… I hate it." He let out a heavy sigh. "I wanna take you away from all that shit, (y/n), I wanna… fuck, I wanna take you somewhere safe, somewhere happy." 

That broken, bruised, crooked smile came to lay across your lips as you very gently and quietly spoke, "I am safe, I am happy, when I'm with you." 

"You mean that?" Donnie questioned quietly. 

You nodded, licking your lips. "Of course I mean that." 

\--- 

The walk home was quiet, and while Donnie went into the house through the front door, you climbed up and got through his window, just in time as he walked in and dumped his bag on the floor; he told you he was going to be home alone tonight, that within a few moments, everyone would be gone, and you would have the place to yourselves. Those few moments were spent laid on his bed, your head on his chest as he read one of his books, it was calm, quiet, content. You were just about to doze off when he gently shook you, telling you that everyone was gone and that he was going to get you something to eat. 

"I'm not hungry," you hummed, attempting to snuggle into him further. 

Donnie shook his head, gently coaxing you to sit up. "You need to eat, (y/n). You haven't had anything all day." 

You frowned a little and shrugged. "I had a bit of Kaylee's sandwich during lunch." 

"Please," he sank to his knees, pressing his forehead against yours and sighing. "Eat, for me, baby?" 

"Okay, fine," you whispered, smiling when he pulled away and promised to get you one of your favourite things; it didn't take long before he was back, and the second you had the plate in your lap and the fork in your hands, he seemed miles happier. As you ate, Donnie went about the house, washing your clothes from the night before, grabbing a packet of cigarettes from his stash, fresh bandages; by the time he had done everything, you had finished eating, and he took the plate and fork downstairs and put them in the sink before returning to your side. 

"Thank you," Donnie murmured, laying down and allowing you to cuddle into him, doing his best not to think about how much he loved feeling your body against his, how you leaned into his touch when he played with your hair, how you hummed softly when he sighed. 

"I didn't do anything," you mumbled, looking up at him. 

He shrugged, running a hand through your hair gently. "You did more than you fucking know." 

You wanted to ask him what he meant, but you couldn't find it in you, so instead, you very quietly said, "you know, sometimes I wonder what I'd do if I hadn't met you." 

"You'd probably start going with Brian," he joked. 

You scoffed, playfully slapping his chest. "That guy is the biggest fucking asshole in the school! I wouldn't start going with him even if I was bribed!" 

Donnie let out a chuckle as he jokingly slapped your shoulder. "Is that so?" 

You got up, straddling his waist, careful not to move your wrist about too much. "It is so." 

"Out of everyone in the school, if you had a choice, who would you go with?" Donnie asked, trying not to give in to the temptation of putting his hands on your waist. 

You placed your hands on his chest, shrugging and pretending to consider, to think; beneath, you knew that you would choose Donnie, in a heartbeat, in a second, you knew you would always choose him. He was always your first choice. "Honestly?" 

"Yeah, honestly," he nodded, trying to prevent his heart from beating too quickly, too boisterously, but he knew you could feel it, he knew that you could feel the thundering and the rumbling behind his ribs; he swallowed thickly, trying not to give anything away, trying not to let his true feelings show. 

"Well…" you bit down on your bottom lip, putting the most pressure on the hand that wasn't aching due to a burnt up wrist, but you could feel the thundering and rumbling of Donnie's heart, and although you told yourself that it was nothing, it felt as if there was something in your own chest that pulled you to him, closer and closer. "I'd probably choose you." 

'Probably'. That word struck a nerve, as you knew fully well that there was no probably about it - it was certain that you would choose Donnie. Above all else. Above anyone else. You would choose Donnie. 

"Wanna know who I'd choose?" He asked quietly, licking his lips and placing one hand on your hip, the other behind his head. 

You nodded, trying to play it cool, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he could feel the way your fingers trembled. "Don't say the new girl." 

Chuckling softly, Donnie sat up, shaking his head as he kept you on his lap, keeping one hand on your hip, the other daring to lace your fingers with his own. "Try again." 

You leaned forward a little, looking down at his lips for a second too long; Donnie let out a groan before quickly leaning in, his lips crashing against yours sweetly. The kiss was short, but sugary sweet, sickly, and when he pulled away, Donnie pressed his forehead against yours, daring to bite at your bottom lip. 

"Donnie, I…" you brought your hands up to the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. "You still haven't told me who you'd pick." 

"Isn't it fucking obvious?" He tittered, the hand that was on your hip snaking round to the small of your back. 

You shrugged, running a hand up and down his neck, fingers mapping out his skin. "Not really, I mean, for all I know, you could just be trying to get into my pants." 

Donnie let out a small groan, shaking his head. "Not you. I… fuck, I care for you a lot more than that, (y/n)... you're my… you're my best friend, and I… I wouldn't fucking use you like that." 

You couldn't deny that there was an incredible sincerity to his voice; everything he had ever done for you, none of it seemed to have darker agendas, colder intentions, crueler meaning. He was your safe place, your trusted confidant, your truest friend, he looked after you, he helped, he cared for you; you pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "Is this gonna… you know… change things, between us?" 

"Only if you want it to," Donnie replied, "we could start going together, but we could stay just friends. It's your choice, baby." 

\--- 

The weeks that followed yours and Donnie's kiss were quite uneventful, with the exception of you both agreeing that perhaps it was best to start dating, and although not much changed, he saw a new light to you, one he had not seen in far too long; you seemed happier, healthier, but perhaps that was because you spent more and more time away from that toxic household. The burn on your wrist cleared up, mostly, healing to a small scab that he hated seeing, as it made his blood boil and caused him to slip into mild dissociation; your father was more than happy to let you go off with Donnie, as he knew that your best-friend-turned-boyfriend would keep you safe and out of harm's way, out of your mother's way, and Donnie's family were more than happy to allow you over. They didn't know the full extent of what went on in your woeful home, but nevertheless, were kind towards you. Everything seemed to be going great, until the night you fell through Donnie's window, clutching your side and crying with agony. 

"Baby, what happened?" Donnie asked, rushed and panicked as he helped you to sit up with your back against the wall. 

"She fucking…" you were breathing heavily, each breath sharp and fearful and panicked. "She fucking stabbed me!" 

Donnie's face fell as he lifted up your shirt enough to get a look; the wound wasn't too deep, and as soon as he quickly bandaged it up, he sat beside you, his hands shaking a little as he held onto you. 

"Where's your dad?" He questioned, nearly falling over the words. 

You took in another deep inhale, desperate for as much air as possible. "W-work." 

Biting at his bottom lip so much that it bled, Donnie swallowed thickly; he could see Frank out of the corner of his eye, whispering and telling him to grab the knife from the kitchen drawer downstairs and go and deal with your mother once and for all, but he ignored it, choosing, instead, to focus on you. 

"Baby, I, I'm so sorry," he whispered, smothering you in sweet, bloody, kisses. "What can I… what can I do?" 

You pressed your face into his neck, letting out a sob filled with agony. "Just… just stay with me, please?" 

Donnie nodded, holding you close as he did his best not to show how scared he was. He knew he wasn't going to lose you, but he was panicked, anxious. "Always." 

"Thank you," you whispered, voice broken and hoarse. 

"No need to thank me," he muttered, pulling away to kiss you before bringing you in close to his body again. "It's what friends are for." 

\--- 

In the morning, your father came to collect you, driving you and Donnie down to the local hospital so that you could get your wound looked at; they had to put sixteen stitches in your side, and the entire time, Donnie sat there, holding your hand. When the doctors praised him for bandaging up your side, Donnie shrugged it off, waiting until he was alone with you in the hospital room to finally speak. 

"I love you," he whispered, running his thumb across your knuckles, wishing the circumstances were different, better. "Really, (y/n), I… fuck, I love you, so fucking much." 

You smiled a little, weakly squeezing his hand as you laid there in the hospital bed. "I love you, too, Donnie Darko." 


End file.
